Saying Goodbye
by Lily Smith
Summary: Harry visits Dumbledore's tomb one last time, only to find that he's not the only visitor. Please Read and Review


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All hail J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: This is just a little one-chapter thing set after the 6th book, where Harry visits Dumbledore's grave. No original characters, except the _concept_ of my character is mentioned in passing, only as an answer to a question… you'll see what I mean. Enjoy!**

Harry hurried along the path. He could see the front gates of Hogwarts a little ahead of him, even though dusk had fallen and it was rapidly becoming darker. He quickened his pace a little, as if just making it to the gate before it was completely dark would somehow make the fact that he was out alone in the open at this time of the evening less dangerous. It wouldn't.

Harry hadn't counted on being out this late. Ron and Hermione were probably getting worried. He had Apparated to Hogsmeade and made his way up to Hogwarts without their knowledge. He passed his test the day of his 17th birthday, right after leaving the Dursley's for good. He had gone back because _he_ had wanted him to, but that didn't mean that Harry liked it. The minute he turned 17, he was no longer safe there and left, with Ron and Hermione in tow, without even saying goodbye.

But now he had to say goodbye, just not to the Dursleys'. That's why he had Apparated to Hogwarts. Harry marched through the front gates and entered the grounds, trying to ignore the sorrow that was welling up inside. He had avoided thinking about Hogwarts ever since he left it. Hogwarts represented Dumbledore to Harry. But now there was no Dumbledore, and as far as Harry was concerned, there might as well be no Hogwarts.

But now, he could see the white tomb in the distance. It was so white that it almost glowed in the darkness. "As white as Dumbledore's beard," Harry thought solemnly to himself. If Harry had picked the color for the tomb, he would have picked bright blue, like Dumbledore's bright, fiery eyes. Or purple. Something more… well… Dumbledore.

It was then, when he was contemplating whether or not a purple tomb would have been at all appropriate, when he realized that he was not Dumbledore's only visitor. Someone else was standing, their back to him, facing Dumbledore's tomb. Harry tensed and slipped his hand into his robes and tightened his fingers around his wand. There was no point in not being cautious as he approached the figure. It wasn't until he got close enough to hear that the person was talking that he recognized the figure as Professor McGonagall, and she had no idea that he was there.

"I don't know if you can tell or not, Albus, but you're at Hogwarts," she was saying. "I know that's where you wanted to be."

Harry froze. He felt like he was intruding, but still he couldn't bring himself to leave.

Professor McGonagall continued. "Albus, I kept the school open. I think it's what you would have wanted. I don't know how many people will come back. I don't even know if any of our staff will come back. But I'm going to try to run the school with half the competency that you had." She paused and took a deep breath. "I know you're not going to answer me at all, but maybe, if you can hear me, you can help me to understand _why_. _Why_, Albus? _Why_? You trusted Severus. The rest of us only trusted him because you did. _Why_? He killed you. Why did he kill you, Albus?"

She paused again. Harry considered stepping forward to announce his presence, but then she continued talking. "I wish you would have told me what you and Harry were doing that night," she said with a sigh. "I asked him. I know I promised you that I wouldn't, but you were dead and I wanted to know why. You'll be happy to know that he didn't tell me a thing. I'm rather proud of him at any rate. His loyalty to you, even after you were gone, is touching. Oh and, Albus, you'll be happy to know that you won our bet. Remus _did_ come around, and he and Nymphadora are having a go at a relationship." She paused again and glanced up at the sky. It was now pitch black. "But I have to go now, Albus. It's getting late."

"It's not safe outside by yourself, you know," Harry said. He shocked himself. He hadn't meant to speak up at all. But on top of that, he had addressed the new Headmistress of Hogwarts very casually. "Ma'am," he added as an afterthought.

McGonagall whirled around and faced him, her wand drawn. Her face relaxed when he saw Harry. "Oh, Harry," she said.

"I didn't mean to..." Harry trailed off.

"It's quite alright," she said. "But you shouldn't be out by yourself either."

"It's strange," said Harry, running his fingers awkwardly through his hair. "I never thought I'd see the day where Hogwarts isn't safer than anywhere else; a day where we're standing on Hogwarts grounds and we've got our wands out and at the ready, _just in case_."

Professor McGonagall nodded sadly. "Our walls have been breached," she said. "Once it happens, it somehow never feels as safe ever again." She glanced over at the tomb, then back to Harry. "I'll leave you be," she added quietly. "If any trouble comes along, shoot red sparks into the air." Harry nodded. McGonagall turned and was walking slowly back up to the castle.

Harry looked at the ground. He opened his mouth to speak to Dumbledore, but no words came out as he realized Professor McGonagall was right; he _wouldn't _answer back. This was getting to be too hard. He wanted closure. He wanted to say goodbye. He wanted to apologize. It was at least partly his fault, after all.

But Dumbledore wouldn't respond. Dumbledore was dead. Would his apology count if the person he was apologizing to couldn't hear him? He let out a scream of frustration then sunk to his knees, his head in his hands.

"Harry?" came Professor McGonagall's voice through the darkness. He ignored it. "Harry!" she said again, louder this time. "POTTER! _Lumos_!"

"I'm okay," muttered Harry. She covered the distance between them quickly and knelt down next to him. He lifted his head out of his hands, and looked straight ahead at the tomb, not meeting her eyes. "It's harder than I thought it would be," said Harry. "There's so much I feel I have to say… but he's not going to answer."

"Just start talking to him," said Professor McGonagall. "It's easiest to start out that way." She paused. "I'll leave you alone then."

She was about to get up when Harry said, "Wait." She looked at him. "Stay." Hell, if he was going to say all this stuff, _somebody _had better hear him. He figured it would be easier to say if _someone_ was actually listening. But even with her kneeling there with him, he found it hard to say what he had come there to say, so the two of them knelt in front of the tomb in silence for a minute or two, before Harry finally spoke up.

"You once told me that to a well-organized mind, death was but the next great adventure," said Harry, as though Dumbledore were standing right there. "Well, for as long as I can remember, my life has been one adventure after another. It seems like at the end of every year, I get myself into some sort of crazy predicament. And there wasn't a single time that you weren't there to help me out of it. I don't think I was ready for you to go on _your_ great adventure.

"There are so many questions you left unanswered; so many things about you that I wish I know but I don't. Do you have a family? Do you stay at Hogwarts all summer, or do you have another home somewhere? When's your birthday? Where _did _you pick up your addiction to lemon drops? How did you come to form the Order of the Phoenix?" He paused and looked up into the sky for a second. He looked back at the white tomb. "What was going through your mind when it happened? It's my fault, you know. If I hadn't made a habit out of acting rashly, you never would have felt the need to immobilize me, and Malfoy never would have had the opportunity to disarm you.

"And the sad irony of the situation is that this year I was _right_. For five years, I came up with one wrong theory after another, and you were always there to set me straight at the end of the year… or at least to listen as I told you what I thought originally and then what I found out was the truth. But this year I was _right_. And you were so used to me being wrong… acting _rashly_… that you probably just assumed that I was wrong again. I knew Malfoy was working for Voldemort. I _knew_ Snape wasn't really on our side. Everyone tried to tell me I was being paranoid and that my personal feelings towards Snape were getting in the way; you, Ron, Hermione, even Professor McGonagall here. After five years of being wrong… I was right.

"In my first year, I thought Snape was trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I was wrong. Then, in my second year I thought Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin. I was wrong. Third year… I thought Sirius was trying to kill me. Turns out he was trying to kill Pettigrew. In my fourth year, I thought that Karkaroff put my name in the Goblet of Fire, when I found out… from you… that it was Moody who wasn't really Moody at all, but was actually Crouch." He paused and heaved a sigh, and continued sadly. "In my 5th Year, I made the biggest mistake of all. I was _wrong_ and it killed the closet thing I had to a parent. I lost Sirius. But now, I would give anything… _anything_… to have been wrong all last year, because I lost another person whom I considered almost like a parent-figure. I lost you. We all lost you. I wish I was wrong about Snape. I wish I was wrong about Malfoy. I wish you were still alive. I'm sorry, Professor. I'm _sorry_.

If I ever see Severus Snape… he better pray that Voldemort is around. Because that's the only thing that could possibly distract me from killing him with my bare hands. That traitor will _pay_ for what he did." He punctuated his last statement by pounding his fist into the ground. Then, he and Professor McGonagall sat in silence for a few moments.

"Harry," said Professor McGonagall quietly. Harry forced himself to pull his gaze away from the tomb and turn it towards her. She sighed. "His brother has a granddaughter. She's about Charlie Weasley's age. The rest of his family was killed a long time ago, either in the war against Grindelwald or the first war against Voldemort. He stayed at Hogwarts during most nights in the summer, but he did have a family home in Southern Ireland. His birthday was February 26th. He picked up his addiction to lemon drops from his brother Aberforth, who was quite possibly the most eccentric man I've ever met. He formed the Order of the Phoenix because he had seen what happened in the war against Grindelwald and knew that the Ministry can only do so much on it's own… knew that he had to get involved more. He wanted to do as much as he could. And…" She paused to make sure she had his undivided attention. "It's very important that you know this, Harry. I don't _know_ what was going through his mind when it happened, but I'm sure he would be _honored_ to know that it had affected you so deeply. But it's _not_ your fault."

"You knew a lot about him," said Harry.

"He was my colleague for over 30 years," said Professor McGonagall. "And my dearest friend."

"He would be happy to know that you're keeping the school open," said Harry. "He would never want it closed."

"But you won't be back next year, will you?" asked Professor McGonagall quietly.

"How did you know?" asked Harry.

"I know _you_," said McGonagall. "Whatever it was that you two went to do that night… you didn't finish it. You want to finish it. You don't want to waste time at Hogwarts."

"Kinda," said Harry. "Except you're making it seem like I think Hogwarts is a waste of time. I would never think that. Ever. Hogwarts is the closest thing I've ever had to a home."

"The Quidditch Team will miss you," said Professor McGonagall.

"They don't need me," said Harry. "Two years in a row now I've had to miss the Quidditch Final. And two years in a row Ginny Weasley's caught the Snitch. They'll be fine without me next year."

"I don't really even know that we'll have Quidditch next year," said McGonagall. "It promotes rivalry. We don't need that. Not now. Besides, watching my House clobber Slytherin won't be the same without Snape's large nose and greasy head around to rub it in."

"I rather think Professor Dumbledore would resent hearing the new Headmistress of his school say that," said Harry, cracking a smile.

"You hear that, Albus?" asked McGonagall. "I said Snape has a large nose and a greasy head and I _enjoy_ rubbing Gryffindor victories in his face."

Harry couldn't believe some of the things that were coming out of Professor McGonagall's house in his presence. Then, he suddenly remembered something he wanted to say. "Professor Dumbledore… I just wanted to say that I went back to the Dursleys. I only went back because you wanted me to. And Professor McGonagall… she kept the school open because you would have wanted _her_ to. Basically… I'm just saying that even with you gone, people are respecting your wishes. I just wanted you to know that."

"I think he does, Harry" said Professor McGonagall smiling. "I think he does."

Harry stood up and then helped Professor McGonagall to her feet. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall," he said. "But I should probably be getting back to Ron and Hermione now."

"Thank _you_, Harry," she said. "Would you like me to walk with you as far as the gate?"

"No, that's alright," he said.

"Remember…" she said. "Red sparks."

"Red sparks," answered Harry. He looked back at the tomb. "Thank you for everything, Professor Dumbledore. I owe a lot to you. Goodbye." He turned back to McGonagall. "Goodbye, Professor."

"Goodbye, Harry," she replied. "And good luck." Harry nodded at her and they turned their separate ways and walked down their separate paths a little before a sudden thought struck Harry.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" said Harry as he abruptly turned back around. Professor McGonagall turned as well.

"What is it?" she asked as Harry jogged back to the tomb.

"I felt like I should bring something," said Harry taking a neatly wrapped package out of one of the larger pockets of his robes and setting it by the tomb.

"What did you bring him?" asked Professor McGonagall.

Harry smiled. "Socks."

"Socks?" repeated Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Harry. "One can never have enough socks."


End file.
